


Baby, take your Clothes off

by amerasu1013 (amerasu_1013)



Series: Marvel Crack AUs [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Crack, M/M, Out of Character, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:32:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4431962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amerasu_1013/pseuds/amerasu1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That stupid thong is still all twisted up in his butt crack and he can’t get it out and he needs to be up on stage right about now and…</p><p>The curtain opens while Steve is still rummaging around in his pants.</p><p>Silence falls over the entire room. Steve freezes, one hand down the back of his tight fake-leather pants, blinking like a deer in the headlights. Or a stripper in the harsh stage lighting. Way in the back he can see Nick face-palming.</p><p>-------------<br/>The obligatory Stripper AU where Steve is the worst stripper ever and is constantly breaking things, but still somehow has become "Fury's" main attraction. Until, that is, a rivaling strip club opens and suddenly people want to see the Winter Soldier instead. Nick takes that as a personal affront and sends Steve undercover to investigate...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, take your Clothes off

**Author's Note:**

> Since the last story I posted ([Dark Star](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4425911/chapters/10056224), that Serial Killer AU) was so dark and evil, here are some happy cracky fun times for you. Like ice cream after having to eat an entire plate of Brussels sprouts. Seriously. That stuff is _nasty_.
> 
> A huge shout out to [zilldk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/zilldk) who is an awesome beta and also has magical fic-developing powers. I had SO MUCH FUN coming up with this story with you!! Quite a few bits of this were her brilliant ideas, so you should all thank her.  
> And, as always: NOTHING IN HERE BELONGS TO ME.
> 
> Oh, and the rating is not because of all that explicit sex in here (there is none, at least no _explicit_ sex), but because Nick... has a really potty mouth.

“And now, dear ladies and _ladies_ , give it up for our main attraction! Here he comes, the man with the star-spangled banana! The man who makes even Lady Liberty drop her metal panties! The man you’ve all been waiting for! Give it up foooooor Captaaaaaain Americaaaaa!”

Tony’s last words are nearly drowned by the excited shrieks of a hundred women greedily pressing closer to the stage. Steve takes a deep breath and hastily adjusts his red-white-blue thong before the curtain goes up; damn thing keeps riding up his crack. He can hear the opening lines of “Star-spangled Man with a Plan” over the screaming and yelling and general mayhem in his audience and flushes a little, still not quite used to the fact that women apparently want to see him naked. _Him_. Seriously. There are so many better strippers out there, and him, Stevie Rogers, as the main attraction? Women are weird. And smell funny. And that stupid thong is still all twisted up in his butt crack and he can’t get it out and he needs to be up on stage right about now and…

The curtain opens while Steve is still rummaging around in his pants.

Silence falls over the entire room. Steve freezes, one hand down the back of his tight fake-leather pants, blinking like a deer in the headlights. Or a stripper in the harsh stage lighting. Way in the back he can see Nick face-palming.

It’s so quiet and somehow, even the music has stopped, probably because Clint is too busy laughing his ass off to do his DJ-ing duties, and then, suddenly… the whole room full of women starts cheering and throwing dollar bills and apple pies at the stage. Steve grins in relief, removes his hand from his pants and starts gyrating his hips. Showtime!

 

***

 

It’s not like Steve wanted to be a stripper. It’s just that someone has to help put Peggy through med school and since their parents aren’t around anymore, well, it falls under Steve’s big-brotherly duties. Even if Peggy constantly tells him he doesn’t need to and why does he do _that_ anyway and it’s so embarrassing and actually tells people he’s a firefighter. Well, he has a firefighter costume, so that’s maybe not really a lie? Anyway, she tells him he doesn’t have to do it, but Steve’s kind of adamant about it. It’s what a big brother would do. Okay, maybe not the stripping bit, but as it turns out it’s a little hard to get a job when your CV says things like “head of his highschool’s PARP chapter (People Against Rude People)” and “got a medal of valor from the local knitting club for saving cats from trees” and stuff like that. And Steve’s sort of okay-looking and the gym lets him train for free because for some weird reason the female attendance skyrockets whenever he’s there and yeah.

Then Sam introduced him to his boss, who looked at him and his too-tight shirt and Steve wanted to explain that that’s not his fault, for some reason they just shrink whenever he takes them to the dry cleaners. Nick said “Yeah, I can work with that!” and looked at Steve scarily from his scary eye under his scary eyebrow and somehow, Steve became a stripper.

He’s not even that good at it, not like Sam who does this whole thing with white bedsheets and wings and smiles at the audience a lot and the women love it because he’s just so nice. Or like Clint who has this elaborate circus act and twists himself around the pole like a pretzel. Steve is just wearing the frankly ridiculous outfits they give him (and he’s never seen the Stars and Stripes look so… dirty) and does his best to not trip off the stage. And not fall ass-over-teakettle because his combat boots are weird to walk in, especially if the stage is covered in money and apple pie and all slippery like yesterday. Or accidentally break the prop chair when he swivels too fast like last week.

Point is, Steve is not actually all that good, but the ladies seem to like it anyway. Sam says it’s something about his all-American puppy dog face (which is sort of rude?), but when Steve wonders about it, Nick mostly tells him to shut up and drop his pants and, well, Nick’s the boss.

Plus, it also pays really well. Even if people at the bank look at him weird when he comes in with all his dollar bills.

 

***

 

They are sitting around, waiting for their daily meeting because Nick takes the club and his business serious as shit. Clint is draped sleepily over the DJ table, every time he breathes there’s a weird scratchy noise coming from the speakers. Clint mostly sucks as a DJ and has a really strange taste in stripper music (yesterday he changed Sam’s usual song to ‘I believe I can fly’), but they don’t actually have a proper DJ at the moment since the old one got fired for… constantly using only one hand for his job. It’s not like Nick minds people jerking off to his strippers, but he does mind them doing it while they’re supposed to be working.

Sharon, their wardrobe girl, is trying to wrestle Thor into a new, very tiny thong he’s supposed to be wearing tonight, while he evades her grabby hands and yells about his private business being his private business and saving himself for his Lady and Sharon staying away from his tool since she’s not worthy to lift it. Thor is actually a carpenter. There’s a _reason_ his song is ‘Can’t touch this’. Hammer Time!

Tony and Maria are behind the bar, inventing new drinks and coming up with the most ridiculous names for them. Steve doesn’t know what actually goes into a ‘Frost Giant’ and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to know anyway. They are great as bartenders, these two, but that glint they get when they make people try their newest concoction is creepy as hell. And the hangovers that usually follow are the _worst_.

Bruce and Phil are once again discussing if they need more bouncers and Sam once again assures them it’s not necessary. Steve agrees wholeheartedly – when he first came here he’d thought there could be no way these two were bouncers, but Bruce is a lot stronger than he looks and totally counts as two people (even without his split-personality disorder) and Phil might look like a mild-mannered accountant (which he apparently was, once upon a time), but will seriously fuck your shit UP if you try anything.

Steve himself is leaning against the bar, eating apple pie. It’s his favorite, okay? And they keep throwing it at him when he’s on stage, it’d be a shame to let all that good food go to waste.

Nick walks in, leather coat flapping behind him in a very dramatic way. Steve has the faint suspicion his boss actually practices his “I’m a badass”-walk in front of a mirror, but he’s not gonna ask about that, ever, because it _is_ a pretty bad ass walk.

“Okay people!” Nick says, eye glinting in that way that makes them all want to roll over and show their bellies. “I heard word about a new strip club opening nearby. It’s not like those motherfucking assholes are gonna be a motherfucking threat to us, ‘Fury’s’ is America’s motherfucking best and foremost place for entertainment, but that doesn’t mean I don’t fucking want you all to do your motherfucking best, you hear me? I’m counting on you bitches. Make me proud and earn me some motherfucking money.”

Steve nods his head vigorously: Nick’s speeches are always so inspiring. He could do with a little less motherfucking swearing though.

 

***

 

It’s nearly four in the morning and Steve is sad. It was actually a good show tonight, he only fell over once and almost brained himself on the pole twice, one of his better ones, really. Nick didn’t even face-palm nearly as often as he usually does, so Steve is quite proud of himself. But he still is sad: there were less than a dozen people in the audience and that… hurts. Is he really _that_ bad a stripper? And he was really hoping he’d get a lot of tips tonight, Peggy’s birthday is coming up and he wanted to buy her something special. And his thong is pinching his crack again and Steve’s life is the _worst_.

“Okay, people.” Nick asks with a thunderous voice and his Eyebrow of Doom. “What the fuck happened tonight?!”

Clint points out the obvious: “Very few people showed up to see us naked.”

“I KNOW THAT.” Nick bellows, then breathes through his nose a couple of times. “I wanna know _why_!”

“Steve sucks at stripping?” Tony suggests and Steve yells “HEY!” because that might be true, but still, _rude_.

Sam elbows Tony, then offers: “That other club opened a couple of days ago. ‘Red Room’. I saw the posters. Maybe that’s why.”

Nick’s eye gets that twitch, Phil looks unflappable, as usual. “Yes, quite possibly.” He says. “I heard they’ve got a main act who’s apparently quite special.”

Clint snaps his fingers. “Right! The Winter Soldier or something. He’s all with the leather I think. And like, kinky and exotic and shit. People love him.”

Nick slowly turns on him, eye narrowing in suspicion. “And just how do you know that, Barton?”

Clint shrugs. “I’m sleeping with their boss. She’s a redhead _all over_. She’s got a soft spot for me.”

“You mean you got a hard one for her!” Sam interjects nastily.

“I got something hard for you right here!” Clint shakes his fist in Sam’s face.

“Yeah, like your dick!”

“Like _your_ dick!”

“Like your _Mom’s_ dick!”

“CHILDREN!” Nick roars and Steve sort of eeps and tries to hide behind Thor, even if he wasn’t the one making Mom jokes. Nick can be _scary_. “THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE. I’VE HAD IT WITH THESE MOTHERFUCKING SNAKES STEALING MY CLIENTS. Something must be done. Rogers, gather the troops!”

Steve flounders a little, because what? He may have pretended to be a soldier on stage (okay, he wore a uniform, but only for a few minutes before he ripped it off), but… what troops? In the end he just goes to the backstage area and asks Sharon and Maria and Bruce to come join them please. Is that enough? Nick nods when he sees them, seemingly satisfied. Phew.

“Now, soldiers.” Nick says, drawing up to his full badass height. “There’s been an attack on our premises. Our clients have been stolen, our capital of stripping and wet panties has been targeted. I will not stand for this insolence, I will not back down in the face of this ruthless and unprovoked attack. Additionally, this strip club is filling my retirement fund and I will die before I go work at McDonald’s because some Winter Soldier terrorist is stealing my goddamn money!”

Was Nick ever in the army? Because, shit, if he wasn’t, the government missed out. Steve’s pretty sure his boss could go win wars single-handedly.

“So we will strike back. Swiftly, immediately, brutally. There will be no mercy. Are you all with me, soldiers?”

Steve is tempted to yell “YES SIR!” because _damn_. The others however just shrug or say “sure” or “whatever”, so Steve curbs his enthusiasm and settles for nodding. A lot. So he gets excited easily , okay? “Yes Sir!” he shouts and oh. Turns out temptation was too strong to resist.

“Good man, Rogers!” Nick grins at him like a shark. “You will be our point man!”

Uh, what?

“You’ll be the tip of the dagger, Rogers, the front line. You’ll be the axe against evil!”

Okay, um, yay?

“You’ll go over there and check them out. Undercover. Recon. A stealth mission. It’s perfect.”

Steve flails a little, then hastily rights the bar stool he just almost shoved over. Stealth mission? Him? Is Nick sure that’s a good idea?

Sam apparently has similar doubts. Scratch that, identical doubts. “Are you sure, boss? Him? On a stealth mission?” The bar stool clatters to the ground as if it's agreeing with him.

Nick, however, doesn’t seem to share those doubts: “YES. Nobody would ever suspect him. He looks like a puppy. A weak, half-drowned, innocent and idiotic puppy, it’s perfect.”

And really, how can Steve say no when Nick says such nice things about him.

 

***

 

Steve waits till next day, because he’s too tired to do any stealthy recon stuff right now and the ‘Red Room’ won’t be open till the afternoon anyway. He stares at his closet for a long time, wondering what to wear. What _does_ one wear on a secret undercover mission? All black?

In the end he settles for a simple white shirt and some jeans, because Nick said innocent and white is the color of innocence, right? He curses under his breath when he tries to squeeze himself into his pants though, they are way too tight. Steve sighs and decides to forgo underwear, as he usually has to when he gets his clothes back from the dry cleaner’s. Weirdly it only happens when he brings them newly-bought clothes, they always get shrunk. But the lady there is nice and always so apologetic (and she's always so nervous, she keeps winking, and Steve is not a total tool so he never mentions it, some people get nervous, it's okay), so Steve can’t bring himself to be mad.

He finds out the proper address for 'Red Room' on Google (the internet, so helpful) and takes his bike there, wondering how to actually do this. Should he like scale a wall and climb through a window? Pretend he’s there for the stripper try-outs announced on that poster next to the door? Jump from that crane and get in via the roof? Use the canalization? Dig a tunnel?

Steve is just standing in front of the club, pondering the thickness of the club’s wall and if Thor maybe has a drill he can use to make a secret entrance, when someone speaks up behind him.

“Hi there, gorgeous.”

Steve flinches and flails a little, damn it, he was supposed to be undercover, which is fucked now since he’s already been noticed by random people. Damn it! Nick will be angry. He tries to come up with an excuse while he turns around to the man now standing in front of him. Oh, that’s it! He’s just gonna tell the guy he was admiring the architecture of the building, that’s good.

“Uh, hi, I was just here to admire… you.”

Fuck, that was not what he meant to say, not at all. But… hotdamn.

The thing is, Steve has a certain taste in men: he likes them brown-haired, preferably with long hair. He likes grey-eyed, handsome, muscular men, he likes them cocky and swaggering and smirking and wearing leather. That’s how he likes his men, pretty specific, yeah. It’s probably something in his genes or something. And this man now standing in front of him? Well, he hits every single one of Steve’s buttons so hard he almost swoons. Actually swoons, in fact, and has to hold onto the other’s pecs to keep himself upright. They make good handles.

“You allright?” the man, the heavenly creature, the angel says and Steve wants to lick him all over.

“Uh, yeah, thanks.” he tells the man’s groin. Because he’s staring at it. Like a creeper.

“Okay then.” Steve’s boyfriend-to-be says and widens his stance a little to keep Steve balanced until he's back on his wobbly legs. The zipper of the man's tight, tight leather pants seems to be winking at Steve and he really, really wants to put his teeth on it and _pull_.

“Hey, buddy, eyes up here!” the love of Steve’s life says and laughs, sounding quite amused.

Steve hesitantly drags his eyes away from the inviting bulge in his future husband’s pants and up to the smirking face. Jesus. Steve wants to bite that smirk. And have the man’s babies.

“I’m Bucky.” The man says and extends his hand. Steve shakes it and never wants to let go. Their babies will be called Stan and Lee and Dorothy and they will be _beautiful_.

He can’t actually answer Bucky, he’s quite forgotten his own name. Simon? Sandy? Something? Oh, right, Steve. He should probably tell Bucky.

“Nice to meet you, Steve. Very nice…” Bucky all but purrs his name. “You here for the stripper try-outs? ‘cause I wouldn’t mind seeing you take your pants off, you know.”

Stripping? Yes please. Is Bucky a stripper? He could give Steve a lap dance and then they fall in love and Steve’s real rich so Bucky can stop showing people his body for money and Steve can take care of him and hey, he hasn’t watched Pretty Woman for a while.

“Yes!” Steve blurts. “Yes to all of it. Please.”

Bucky smirks again which does funny things to Steve’s dick. “Nice. You’re a little early though, it doesn’t start for another hour. C’mon, I’ll show you around.”

And he actually takes his hand and drags him towards the club, Steve following behind in a daze. Shit, he’d follow that man to hell and back, to the end of the line, fuck, the world. He’s so gonna marry that guy, that’s for sure!

At the door a scarily sexy mountain of a bouncer glares at Steve. He’s really very scary and sexy, but also sort of creepy with those leather straps crossing his chest. Are those ammunition belts?! The bouncer glares with his glary face, but Bucky just pats him on the chest and drags Steve past the guy. “Don’t mind Brock,” he explains, “I just broke up with him. He’s usually quite nice. Way too into Greek mythology though.”

“What?!” Ex-boyfriend? Steve feels the sudden urge to bang Brock over the head with a trash can lid.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know, it’s weird we’re still working together. But we do this whole thing on stage where he ties me up and the clients love it, so.”

Steve is very adamant right now that this cannot continue. The only one who will ever tie up Bucky is Steve himself. Hotdamn. Preferably right the fuck now.

Steve’s future husband leads him around the club which is indeed very red, pointing to the stage and the bar, explaining about club-related business. Not that Steve’s actually hearing anything except from some tidbits now and then. Like “This is Alex, I know he seems old, but we have this thing called ‘Geriatric Nights’ for women over 60 and he’s a total pro, the walker doesn’t slow him down at all” or “This is Mr. Smith, you know, like in the ‘Matrix’ movies? Don’t stare at his face, it always looks like that”. Yeah, Steve’s not hearing much of Bucky’s speech, he’s too busy watching his mouth move and wondering how he should propose. Would it be too cheesy if he got down on his knee right now?

Bucky’s last sentence however rips him from his pleasant day dream: “You know, if you ever wanted to do some role-playing, I’ve been looking for a partner to do a scene with fighting turning into angry sex and stuff like that.”

“You’re a stripper?” he asks and instantly feels bad because, _duh_.

Bucky looks at him. “Well, yeah. They call me the Winter Soldier.”

Steve sort of doesn’t get that, because Bucky isn’t cold, no. He’s hot. Smokin’. He means to tell the other that, but his mouth apparently shut down a while ago as did his brain, because that is most definitely not was he says.

“Can I fuck you?” Steve blurts out and immediately turns beet-red.

Bucky blinks at him. “I charge extra for that.”

Oh. “I have like 17 dollars?”

Bucky smiles, slow and lazy. “That buys you a blow job, but nothing more.”

“I’m fine with that!” Steve assures the other, because hells to the yes. Please.

Bucky grins, dark and filthy. “Tell you what, for you I’ll even swallow.”

 

***

 

He does, as it turns out, and is really sweet about it when Steve tries to return the favor and promptly chokes on Bucky’s come. Sam was wrong: it’s NOT like riding a bicycle and Steve hasn’t done that in a while, so no judging, please.

Bucky’s not judging, just laughs and tells him it’s okay. Then admits he doesn’t actually let people pay for sex with him (he’s a stripper, not a prostitute, which is good because Steve probably couldn’t handle people touching Bucky and also, Brock is a fucktard). Steve tries his best not to feel _special_ when Bucky takes his money anyway.

Which is when Bucky’s boss Natasha, Clint’s redhead lady friend, discovers them and throws Steve out on his ass.

Seems like Nick was wrong after all: Steve’s not the right man for an undercover stealth mission. They probably should have sent somebody whose face and body aren’t plastered all over their club, advertising Fury’s main attraction.

 

***

 

Steve slinks back to his own club, tail between his legs. Well-sucked tail, but still.

Nick lies in wait behind the door: “Rogers, report!”

“Uh. I met the Winter Soldier?”

“ _And_?”

“He’s really nice?”

“AND?”

“And… and do you know where I can get an engagement ring on short notice because he’s really really nice?”

Nick throws his hands into the air and storms off, calling Steve a bunch of unflattering names. Steve doesn’t give a shit, he’s got a wedding to plan.

 

***

 

A week later, during which Steve has most certainly not doodled little hearts with his and Bucky’s name onto every available surface or gotten six different pairs of rings engraved (who knows what decor Bucky likes, right? Better be prepared) and during which ‘Fury’s’ is almost empty of visitors (a fact which makes Nick’s eye twitch and Steve’s pretty sure he’s seen him stick needles into a redheaded voodoo doll on more than one occasion) something happens that brings the story one step closer to its inevitable climax:

Natasha walks into Fury’s, smirks at Clint invitingly, then at the rest of them in a very threatening way. “I’m just here to check out the… ‘competition’.” The air quotes are very much audible. As is the sarcasm.

She and Nick get into this stare down, it’s very impressive. A bell tolls in the distance: high noon. Somewhere, Steve thinks, Clint Eastwood probably narrows his eyes and calls his lawyer for copyright infringement. Natasha looks tiny and unimpressed, Nick basically looks like he wants to eat her head. And then the shouting starts.

Steve hides backstage since the whole thing reminds him weirdly of his parents fighting and calls Peggy because he needs to hear his sister’s voice right now. She calls him a moron in a very bad fake British accent and invites him over for lunch tomorrow; Peggy is awesome. When he gets back into the main room a while later, the shouting match is obviously just coming to an end.

“There’s only one solution!” Nick rages.

Natasha narrows her eyes. “I agree.”

A very long pause. Steve twitches in excitement. Then:

“Strip-off.” They both say at the same time and Steve imagines dramatic music.

“My main attraction against your main attraction.” Nick says, jaw set tightly.

“Yes. The Winter Soldier versus Captain America.”

Wait. What? Steve’s confusion is drowned in the excited noise of the others. What? Strip-off? What? Him against Bucky? WHAT? Oh, hey, that means he’ll see Bucky again, yay! But still, what’s a strip-off?

Sam shakes his head at him when Steve asks and tells him to watch ‘Zoolander’. “Like that,” he says, “but basically with less clothes.”

Steve watches the movie and oh, okay. He can maybe probably do that. Especially if it means he gets to see Bucky get naked.

 

***

 

The big day arrives and Steve has to get help from Sharon _and_ Maria to get into his costume, it’s so tight. There’s also a shoehorn involved and way more olive oil than strictly appropriate. But hell, he’s gonna do his absolute best to impress Bucky tonight. Oh, and also win the strip-off, you know, since Nick was weirdly intense about that.

He does a few quick push-ups in his dressing room to get his muscles to bulge, then… waits. Has some coffee. Sits around. Does a few more push-ups. Waits some more. Paces the room, practices saying the alphabet backwards, does a few jumping jacks and accidentally breaks a lamp. And then he waits some more.

He’s just contemplating if he should maybe get a book or something when the door opens and Bucky is suddenly standing there.

“Hi!” Steve yells in delight. “Hi Bucky!”

Bucky glares at him.

“Hi! How have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

The other continues glaring.

“You look really good!” Steve says earnestly because a) Bucky does and b) compliments are key for a satisfying relationship.

Bucky’s glare intensifies. Oh. That’s… not good.

“Uh. Are you mad at me?”

The glare reaches nine on the Richter scale. Shiiiit.

“Why? For the whole thing where I was pretending to be there for the stripper try-outs so I could do recon at your club? I had a very good reason for that,” which to be honest Steve can’t currently remember, “and anyway it was Nick’s idea and don’t be mad. And you look really hot when you’re angry and I’m sorry and you’re hot and I think I love you?”

Bucky blinks rapidly a few times. “You,” he says decisively, “are very weird.”

Steve ducks his head. “I’m sorry?”

The other sighs. “Yeah, okay. 's not like I asked who you were and all that. I mostly just wanted to blow you. It’s fine. ”

Yay! Steve thinks. “Really? Awesome! Uh, kiss and make up?”

Bucky starts smiling. “Why the hell not.”

 

***

 

Meanwhile up front war is raging. It’s mostly just Brock and Sam trying to glare each other into submission and Nick and Natasha shouting at each other about how “mine’s bigger!” and “mine’s better!” and “yours is stupid!” and “your _face_ is stupid!” – they apparently have a lot of feelings about this.

The others mostly stare and place bets on whose head will explode first until Bruce finally asks when the strip-off’s gonna start, his other personality is getting a little impatient. Which makes everyone realize that it’s actually been quite a while since Steve and Bucky were supposed to show up. They start roaming the hallways, stare-downs and shouting matches put on hold temporarily for the search and rescue. Sam is the one who actually finds the missing pair.

He peers through the door of Steve’s dressing room then announces: “I have bad news and good news. Bad news is: the strip-off’s apparently cancelled. Good news is: seems like Steve is on top.”

“That’s my boy!” Nick crows and that is that.

Neither Steve nor Bucky have the heart to tell their friends that if you were to give out points for being on top, Bucky'd actually be in the lead by two. But they all get invited to their wedding anyway.

 

THE END


End file.
